The birds in the distance were startled, small black dots fluttered, then turned into ashes and fell, and the firewood in the fireplace was almost burned out.

The last word was written, but the creator seemed to still have more to say, so he picked up the pen again and added an annotation to his favorite story recently.

Amidst the noise of the wind, Loki heard a voice coming like a hallucination.

"Unfortunate people don't have to look for their own existence in others. What can best prove their existence is their beautiful and gorgeous inner world."

"The roar of an angry person is like a song, the tears of a sad person are like a painting, and the unfortunate person should write a wonderful story about his tenacious life of overcoming misfortune and suffering."

"Let go of your inferiority complex, wipe away your unwillingness, throw away all self-pity and self-pity, I only wish that the sword and pen are clanging, the wind and clouds are thundering, and wherever you look, everyone can hear my cry."

"If one day I become a small spark in the boiling furnace that forges the iron will of others, the voice of emotion that rises and falls for wonderful stories, I will regard suffering as paper thin and choke the throat of fate.

Prove my existence."

"who I am?"

"I am a child, a child who likes to listen to stories, and a father, the father of all stories."
Chapter completed!